


Lonely Nightmares

by YourAnonymousGod



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Nightmares, Poor Jack, Post-Canon, Post-Episode: s03e05 Children Of Earth - Day 5, Post-Season/Series 03, Sad, Sad Ending, Temporary Character Death - Jack Harkness, no comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:27:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24328015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YourAnonymousGod/pseuds/YourAnonymousGod
Summary: Jack Harkness woke up, lungs heaving in the biggest gasp as if hadn’t breathed for days, limbs scrambling about like they’d been locked in place, and he yelled a name.
Relationships: Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones
Comments: 10
Kudos: 36





	Lonely Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy angst boys

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe.  _ He couldn’t breathe!  _ It hurt so much to even try to inhale, which he couldn’t do that anyway. Something weighed down immensely on his chest, his arms, his legs, his head, his everything. It stopped his lungs expanding, it stopped his eyes opening, it stopped his fingers twitching. He couldn’t raise his head, he couldn’t wiggle his toes, he couldn’t stretch his spine. He couldn’t hear anything apart from the rapidly increasing thumping of his heart but it sounded like he was listening to it through a wall

The only thing he could do was feel. Feel the crushing mass around him, feel the rawness burn in his throat, feel the scratching against his bare skin. But other than that, he could do zilch and that fucking terrified Jack Harkness.

With the lack of fresh oxygen coming in and stale carbon dioxide leaving, Jack had his lungs screaming and body trying to jerk if it could.

It didn’t take long for him to die, but it felt like forever.

He didn’t remember much before the constant cycle of nothing, suffocation, death, then nothing again but Jack was sure it had happened before. Even so, that time it had been dirt thudding against his clothed chest rather than wet splashed of something cold hitting his sensitive, naked skin and lighting up new nerve endings everywhere. That time he had inhaled and swallowed dry soil for 1875 and died nearly 100 million times, give or take, he’d lost count. This time it was choking on solidified concrete stuck down his throat and in his lungs, death count at around 1000. Yet, both times he came back thrashing, on the verge of death. And both time, he wished he’d stay dead after the first death.

Then, as always, Jack came back. Dragging his soul and consciousness over broken glass to come back to being trapped, blinded, deafened, and suffocating all over again. And again.  _ And again. _ Until…

Jack Harkness woke up, lungs heaving in the biggest gasp as if he hadn’t breathed for days, limbs scrambling about like they’d been locked in place, and he yelled a name.

_ “Ianto!” _

When a slither of awareness came back to Jack, his hand shooting out to the space beside him looking for the warm body of the familiar Welshman, looking for a hand to grip onto while fingers combed through his hair, looking for the man he knew meant  _ love  _ and  _ safety _ . However, there was nothing there but cold sheets, ruffled by Jack’s frantic movements, and empty space. No warm body, no gentle fingers, no  _ love  _ and no  _ safety _ . No Ianto…

Because Ianto had died just 10 days ago and Jack was alone, still grieving and running as far away from Earth as he possibly could. Busying himself with gambling, running illegal jobs on the side, finding pretty men, women, aliens and getting them to bed only to wimp out and think only of  _ Ianto _ and how he couldn’t be unfaithful to him.

So, Jack sat on his own in the early hours on whatever Alien planet the newest job had landed him on, drenched in sweat, heart pounding, and body trembling in complete fear. No one to help him, no one to shower him with comfort, no one to hold him. No Ianto Jones.

Time passed before Jack shook himself from the spell he was in, knowing he had gone quiet, eyes staring far off while his fingers gripped the silk sheets. In the back of his mind, he was sure he could hear the mutterings of Welsh vowels which he had heard so often. It spurred Jack to shuffle to the end of the bed, grabbing his discarded greatcoat and rooting through its deep pockets until his fingertips brushed something. Jack pulled out a folded image, carefully straightening it out with his large fingers and holding it before him. It had ripped at the edges slightly but the main and most important part was still intact.

It brought a teary smile to his lips and Jack stroked his thumb over one of the five figures, nightmare almost forgotten as if just seeing his face cured him.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, Kudos, and Criticism are always appreciated.  
> Tumblr - @drjekyll-is-gay  
> I have a HTTYD discord (none rp) in my tumblr bio, anyone is free to join :)


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